The Nightmares Hidden in Dreams - A Hunger Games Fan Fiction

Panic

My heart sinks to the floor, and it feels as though it ceases to beat for a couple of seconds. It's a good thing I'm already sitting down, because my legs suddenly feel shaky and I'm lightheaded.

It's impossible, I think. Because how can it be? How can the one thing I fear most, the subject of so many of my nightmares, be true? "Impossible," I mumble aloud, loud enough that my mother and Peeta can hear it.

"No, not impossible," my mother responds, in a tone like one a person would use towards a skittish creature to keep them from running off. "I mean, you two have been married for five years, so it has always been a possibility." But that's not the answer I wanted. I don't want the logistics, because, yes, it's possible, but it's impossible for me. I can't be a mother, I can't raise a kid and watch them be taken from me the same way Prim was.

But there are no more Games, the practical part of my brain argues. But that doesn't mean they'll ever truly be safe. There has always been, and always will be, disease, starvation, and tragedy.

Everyone I love seems to be hurt in some way.

It's inevitable.

I turn to look at Peeta, knowing that there is unmasked terror present on my face. And I see that he understands.

This is what he has always hoped for, yet he doesn't look at me with the joy I know he must feel. Instead, he looks at me with concern, sympathy. His gaze lets me know that he'll work to ease my fears before he'll allow himself to rejoice.

Peeta offers his hand to me, and I grasp it like it's a lifeline, letting it convey all of the fear I can't put into words. He squeezes my hand reassuringly, and my heart rate begins to slow. Not enough to relax, but enough that I don't feel as if I'm going to be swallowed whole by my panic.

My mother goes on about all sorts of information I can't bring myself to focus on because my mind only returns to that same fear-inducing thought.

"I'd put you at around seven or eight weeks, which would mean you're going to be due at some point in late December or early January." It's been two months and I never even knew.

We return to the table and my mother brings out a cake that she must have paid an exorbitant price for. I only manage to eat a few bites. My stomach churns because of my anxiety. And because of the baby.

The silence is weighty, even as Peeta and my mother try to restart the conversation. I'm sitting at that table, but it's like I'm not even there. I'm so deep within the recesses of my mind, I don't even realize that everyone has finished and Peeta is standing to go until he grabs my shoulder and squeezes it softly.

I go through the motions; I give my mother a hug, promise to call soon with any updates. Peeta never lets go of my hand as we walk to the train station. I glance towards the beach we were at this morning, back when all of my troubles and worries seemed so far away. My mind feels like those waves, crashing over me again and again, making it impossible to come up for air.

Aboard the train, the conductor's voice filters through the car. "Welcome aboard the train to District 12. Our estimated arrival is around 9:00 tomorrow morning. Sit tight and enjoy your ride."

The lights of District 4 blind me as they become a single line, blurring out the rest of the world.

Peeta gets up to take a shower and wash out all of the salt water, but I just sit on the bed, staring out the window.

He comes out, steam trailing him, wearing nothing but a towel. His damp hair is just starting to curl. Ordinarily, the sight of him like this would be enough to make me pounce. But even this isn't enough to drag me from my stupor.

Peeta gets dressed and settles into the bed beside me. He allows the silence for another few minutes before he clears his throat, forcing me to look at him.

"So...how are you feeling about all of this?"

I shrug, "I don't know what to feel. But I keep shifting between numb and absolutely terrified."

"So you don't think it's good news? And you're allowed to say no, I just want to make sure you're okay."

I bite my lip, thinking of the best way to express my true sentiments. "It's not that I don't think it's good news. I just haven't had the chance to be happy about it because I'm scared out of my wits. This is my biggest fear come to life, and I keep on waiting to wake up, to find that it's not true, but deep down I know that it is."

Peeta grabs my hand and runs his thumb back and forth across it, causing me to subconsciously relax. "I'm scared too," he whispers, staring at me with this new intensity in his blue eyes. "I'm terrified. Because what if I'm not good enough. What if I end up like—" his voice cracks. "Like my mother."

"That would never—" but he cuts me off.

"I know that I'll do better than her, even if I don't always believe it. But that's my point. We're all scared of something," he gazes at me imploringly, begging me to understand. "But our fears aren't justified, Katniss. There are no more Games. We're as safe as we can possibly be. There's nothing to fear anymore."

And his words do what they always have; they calm me, convince me. There's nothing to fear anymore.

I inch closer to him and press my face to his shoulder, taking a shaky breath as the tears seep from my eyes and onto his shirt. He presses his lips to my hair and his arms wrap around me. Peeta squeezes me to him as I shudder with the soul-crushing weight of my fears. And by letting myself feel them, I can sense their gravity begin to fade, pulling the boulder from my shoulders.

I let myself think of this child, not as some curse, or an incarnation of my worst fears, but as something I can love. I picture a kid like Peeta, with a heart of gold and a blinding smile. Or one like me, who can make the forest feel a little less empty. I begin to smile without meaning to. The tears stop.

Peeta's arms loosen enough for him to pull back and look at me. At the sight of my happiness, he begins to grin too.

"Can I be excited now?" he whispers, eyes shining like a child who's been taken to a candy shop.

I nod, and he kisses me deeply, pressing my back down to the mattress.

"I think this is the second happiest I've ever felt," he says between kisses, moving down my throat. I tilt my head up to give him better access.

"What's the first?" I whisper, already breathless.

He just smirks at me.